If You Leave
by Morningside
Summary: Tonight was a close call. Too close. Based on the synopsis of Blast Radius.


**Title:** If You Leave

_Based on the synopsis of Blast Radius. _

* * *

He finds her standing with her back against the computer table, half-resting.

But there's nothing resting about her tense shoulders, or her crossed arms across her chest. He enters on quiet feet, breathing, stops, waiting.

She finally looks at him.

If she hasn't cried already, he might.

Tonight was a close call. Too close.

* * *

Surrounded by old wooden and iron figurines and paintings he's unable to look at long enough to make out clearly, Oliver's more focused on the red gridlocking rays that weren't there two minutes ago.

"… when you entered the antique-store you activated a motion-sensor wired to one of Shrapnel's devices," Felicity's explains over comms. "He's got the device operating independently from the plaza's energy system. I've just scanned the entire plaza's network and the device is not connected."

He already knows, still, he asks, "What does that mean?"

"It means that if you move, and by move I mean, if you so much as take a step forward—the bomb goes off."

He doesn't know if she can hear him swallow. "Felicity…"

"Dig's on his way over. Just… Oliver, stay where you are. Stay still."

* * *

Time passes slowly when you think you're dying.

Most people get it wrong, he thinks. They talk about images flashing before your eyes, or time speeding up—but it doesn't, at all. Everything slows down.

He had lots of time to think on the island. Too much. This both resembles those times and doesn't, because on the island he always had to be wary of sudden threats, but neither of those threats involved getting blown to pieces if he so much as blinked wrong.

Sweat broke out on his temples half an hour ago, but he doesn't think about it. He focuses on finding a calm center. Breathing easy, breathing in, out, repeat. Staying steady. Still, he can't help the way his mind wanders to thoughts of absolutes and stretch beyond.

And that's when people appear in his mind's eye. People he loves, people he cares about, too much, even though he knows he shouldn't—he's living his life getting stretched apart by the conflict of himself: the part that wants to feel good and the part that wants the pain—because they all get hurt one way or another. In the end, hurt, or worse, dead, because of him. All of them, when, truth is… he's the one who was supposed to die.

But that's where it all changes.

He was supposed to die, stay dead. He knows that. But he's starting to think otherwise, now, and in the light of everything that's happened in his life for the past years, since returning to Starling City, it's lead up to this, knowing that, not now, and not in a moment either—he can't die.

He's not ready. There's still so much for him left to do.

"You're breathing like a grizzly bear."

He nearly smiles. "Wonder why."

"I don't. Just, breathe, Oliver. Keep breathing – and don't move."

It's good he can't see Felicity on the other end of the line, how she presses her fingers to her mouth. Her forehead's been hurting for the past half hour from wincing. John is close to the plaza, but still too far away.

"Oliver?"

"Yeah?"

"Sorry, I... You went quiet for a moment."

"Busy breathing." He looks at one of the paintings. "If the bomb went off, I'm pretty sure you would've heard it."

A pause. "Seriously? You choose the worst times to make a joke."

"Not much else I can do, right now."

Felicity knows, it's up to her to keep him hanging on. She also knows he's Oliver Queen. The Arrow, vigilante, survivor. _A hero_. He's been through worse before. Always made it through himself, but the point is letting him know he doesn't have to.

"Do you remember that time, like, five weeks ago," she says, "when we walked in on you sweeping the floor? And later on Dig found a shard of glass you'd missed, and said he forgave you since he knew rich people aren't used to doing their own clean up…"

"What about it?"

"I, uh. Don't know. It just made me smile."

He recognizes what she's trying to do. But his thoughts are sullied. "How is Barry?"

Her voice gets tense. "You know how he is."

"Thanks to you."

The feeling of sickness resurges in Felicity's stomach. "I'm not going to apologize for caring about what happens to him."

It's Oliver's turn to lower his voice. She can't see his frown, but she can hear it. "You think I don't care?"

"I think you care about certain things more than others."

"I _care_."

"Sure you do. But the mission always comes first."

"Not before everything." Images of people flash by his mind. Some linger longer than others. He clears his throat, tries to refocus. "Where's Diggle?"

"He's at the intersection across the plaza. He's getting road-blocked by people from the Unity Rally, and I'm trying to help him by redirecting the traffic by changing the lights." The sound of fingers typing at a keyboard. "I'm trying."

"I know." His voice is softer, before it turns eerily blank. "I'm going to die."

"No, you're not," is the instant response. "You are not going to die, you hear me? Oliver, just make sure you're standing still, and, think about, I don't know, the trees in the jungle, or landmines—wait, _don't _think about land mines. I repeat, do not think about land mines. Or anything else that might explode for that matter." She winces, takes a deep breath. Her hands briefly still over the keyboard. "Just, stay with me. How about… tell me something. Tell me something I don't know about Thea."

"There's a lot you don't know about Thea."

"No one likes a smartass."

"I don't…"

"_Oliver_."

He sighs. Everything goes quiet, then his voice comes through, surprisingly even. Almost light. "When we were kids, she'd drag me out in the garden some times. Just, I don't know. Just to play. She was hyper, like this, this little ball of energy." He presses his hands into his sides to keep from motioning. "She didn't need much to have a good time. You could hand her a toy, and she'd be entertained for hours."

"If I didn't know you grew up in a billion-dollar mansion, I'd say your childhood sounds pretty normal."

Felicity's voice sounds amused, and he thinks that, he really likes when it sounds that way. He doesn't know if he's ever thought it before, but he does.

"It _was _normal." Something cold comes into Oliver's eyes, and the muscle in his jaw flicks. "She's made other choices since."

There's a pause. Oliver's eyes roam the red-lined room, unable to hear a ticking clock but feeling it bearing down on him just the same.

"I didn't choose Barry, Oliver." Felicity's voice is low. "Just like I didn't choose you."

A moment. A pause. Both listen to the sound of the other's breathing.

"Felicity?"

"Yeah?"

"If I asked, this time. Would you dance with me?"

"Oliver – if you move, you die. We've gone over this before."

"Not the point."

She knows it's not. The point is about _choice_.

And she's already made hers.

"Yeah, Oliver. I would." And she doesn't say what she thinks, because he knows, that he might never get the chance again. "I'd dance with you until morning."

* * *

Even when he sees Diggle outside the antique store, knowing he's disarmed bombs before, there's a part of Oliver trapped by the icy rush sweeping through him.

_Fear_.

For the first time in a long time, he's got something of his own to lose.

* * *

Back in the Foundry, things are quiet.

After he returned, Diggle handed the chip he managed to salvage from the detonator over to Felicity, who worked her magic at the computer, tracing the outgoing signals for any active connections. Lucky for them, for Starling City, she came up empty, which means they can go home. Their job is done for the night. She's ending processes, finishing up by the computer.

Oliver's sitting on the steel bench, the same he sat on after Moira's trial. Diggle walks up to him, putting on a sweater.

"Close call, tonight."

Oliver shifts his eyes from watching Felicity at the computers. "We've been in tight spots before."

"Sure. But I don't think any of us believed it was ever something we couldn't get out of. Until tonight."

Oliver looks up, something sharp in his eyes as he looks at John.

Who continues anyway. "You know, Oliver, when a man's faced with his life ending, he tends to start thinking about everything he'd do differently if he could go back." A poignant look. "The point isn't so much that you start doing things differently, it's being aware. That's what you take with you."

Diggle gets up, slapping a hand on Oliver's shoulder before moving for the stairs.

Hoisting himself off the steel bench, Oliver slowly approaches Felicity, who's now standing the same way she did when he arrived. He looks at the computer screens behind her, news stations reporting the outcome of the Unity Rally on mute. He tries finding her eyes but she's looking at the floor.

Her voice sounds automatic. "Good thing Dig brought the chip back with him, not to mention that it was still active. Who knows what else might've blown up tonight." She winces.

"Felicity…"

She doesn't move. He glances her way, noticing her fingers that are shaking. They've both been through hell today, both realized something they're not entirely willing to tell the other. But there's a lot in doing and not saying. So, he moves. He stands in front of her, though she keeps looking at the floor. He reaches out.

"Hey." His fingers lift her cheek. "I'm here."

A pause. Her eyes into his are watery but clear, and he holds on. She's his lifeline.

Her voice is small. "What would I do without you?"

He doesn't answer because he can't. Her choice is her own, but his, there's no choice when it comes to her.

He finds both her hands, presses his thumbs into her palms and leans in, their foreheads meeting. Both close their eyes.

And for moments, they just breathe.


End file.
